Lia and Sol: The story of the Skylark
by loredana
Summary: A promise given but never kept ... 2 child lovers torn apart by family and personal weaknesses. Can they find their way back to each other or will their choices as adults keep them apart forever? - a Guy-centered fic; OC/Guy; Robin/Marian
1. Prologue part 1

PROLOGUE

Part one

Look … look quickly … for soon it will be gone and all you will have is the song …

_The skylark_

"_There was once a king, powerful and rich, and he had a palace made from gold that the sun shone on every clear, blue day. And from far away, it would look as though it was another sun shining._

_And this king wanted to take a wife. He had wasted half of his life building his beautiful palace and as the years marked his face he felt the need to give his palace a mistress. _

_But these were not good times for men in need of wives, for the earth was filled with dragons that would cast spells over beautiful maids and take them on their winged horses, through the sky and to the other land. The king tried in vain over and over again to find a wife but all of them suffered the same fate._

_And then he found the young daughter of a neighboring king. She was but ten years old but he could still see that she would become the most beautiful creature the world had ever seen. Her long blond hair and her yellow eyes made her seem as if she had been torn out of the sun itself. The king took this girl and shut her in the upper part of the castle forf fear that she would be taken from him. Her rooms had iron doors and at every door there were guards with weapons. That was where she grew up. That was where she played with her servants and where she ate. She did not feel lonely, in her golden cage, for the first few years._

_Her rooms had only one golden window that faced south and so from sunrise to midday to dusk she could watch the sun without hurting her eyes._

_But in the beginning Lia – because Lia was the name of the girl – did not care much for the sun. Instead she played with her friends._

_As the years passed and the girl grew, she stopped playing with them and remained seated in front of the window, often deep in thought. _

"_Do you not like playing anymore?" her friends asked her_

"_I do."_

'_Don't you like us anymore?"_

"_I like you as well."_

"_Let's find new games. Perhaps you are tired of the old ones."_

"_I am not tired."_

"_Well, if that be the case, why do you remain silent for hours, and not look at us?"_

"_I am not silent."_

"_What are you doing then?"_

"_I'm talking."_

"_But we don't hear anything."_

"_I am talking … but without words."_

"_Who to?"_

"_I don't know … perhaps to my heart."_

_When Lia's old nurse heard this she went to the now old king._

"_It is time, master! She is ready."_

"_Are you sure?" the king asked with a glimmer of excitement in his eye_

"_Yes. The lady does not play anymore and she is always quiet and in deep thought."_

_The king was much elated. He had been waiting for this news for a very long time. The years were pressing hard upon him and he needed an heir. Once they were married his problems would be over. He would have the most beautiful wife in the land and the dragons would be powerless._

_He sent hundreds of messengers throughout his kingdom to announce the great feast that would be given in honor of his marriage._

_During this time, Lia's friends starting hearing her sing through the door, for she had excluded them from her chamber where she sat alone. It was a barely whispered song that made their hearts tremble._

_Lia would sit in front of the window and sing. She was singing to the sun. And the sun stopped in awe of the great beauty of the girl and her piercing voice, until one day, when as dusk was quickly approaching, the sun transformed himself into a man and walked into the girl's chamber._

_He smelled of fresh rain and linden blossom. His hair was like dripping honey and his skin was translucent alabaster._

"_Who are you?" Lia asked, although she knew the answer all too well._

"_I am Sol," he answered sitting with her in front of the window. He touched her hands. "Sing for me," he asked her._

_She gave him a soft smile and started singing, raising her voice and touching his soul._

_Weeks passed in this manner, with Sol visiting her just as dusk came and leaving quickly before night fell, until the day of the feast finally came._

_Lia was brought to the large hall, where all the guests had arrived and were now astonished by the great beauty that the girl possessed. Truth be told, their eyes hurt as she passed in front of them. They felt as if they had been staring directly into the sun's light.._

_The king could not believe his eyes and rose enchanted by this vision. He took her hand and attempted placing the ring on her finger. But as he did that, Lia quickly pulled her hand away and ran out of the great hall, leaving the king and his guests dumbfounded. She ran through the long corridors, past the servants that desperately tried to reason with her to return to the hall. She climbed the stairs back to the tower, tripping over her long dress. She closed the door behind her and sat herself once more in front of the window, singing and asking Sol to come for her._

_The king tried again. He tried for three days, and the girl's response remained the same. She had now given up speaking all together and simply stared out the window and sang._

_With a heavy heart, the king called upon an old wizard known for his great wisdom to see what was wrong with his bride._

_The old man looked at Lia, raised his thick eyebrows and sighed. "I think she is in love with the sun."_

"_With the sun?" the king questioned." You are an old fool!" he said, dismissing the idea._

_The old man turned around and started heading for the door. When he had come here from his cave he could still see a little and had managed to find his way alone. Now he was completely blind._

"_Give me a guide to get home," the man requested._

"_But you came here by yourself."_

"_Yes, I could still see something then. But now, your bride had blinded me."_

"_You talk foolishness, old man."_

"_No, it is the truth. Your bride now seems torn out of the sun itself. Have you not seen this?"_

"_She has always been beautiful."_

"_As beautiful as this? To take a man's eyesight? To make an old man blind?"_

_The king sent the wizard on his way with a heavy heart and gave him the guide._

_Spring was gone and then summer. Then autumn … It came, but the day did not shorten. It only increased and the heat became unbearable._

_The sun would rise on time but would set later and later._

_After a while, the whole world seemed to stand still. What was this? How had the natural order of things changed? No more autumn? No winter? _

_The workers were exhausted and the lords would not take them out of the fields until dusk. The priests started praying and the bells would never stop ringing. All day long, the fortune tellers would sit in the palaces of their kings trying to make out what to do._

_Only Lia grew more beautiful every day and continued to sing, looking through the thin gold glass, towards Sol who cast his rays down on her, caressing her._

_Upon seeing all of this, the king grew bitter and angry. He had loved her and taken care of her and this was how she repaid him? He got it into his mind to put a stop to it. He left his home and traveled over seven lands and seven rivers until he found the palace of the sun itself. This was where Sol's mother lived._

_The world's cries had reached her ears long before the king. She would see her son arriving for bed increasingly late and would give no reason for this. But upon hearing this news, she knew she had to put a stop to it. So she followed her son when he awoke the next day._

_Dressed in dark clouds, she went after him until she saw him stop in front of the king's golden palace. There he fixed himself upon the sky and moved no more, looking contentedly through the small golden glass window where Lia stood. Upon seeing him Lia smiled and started singing. Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of her voice and the sun exploded into a strong, searching beam at hearing his beloved._

_When she saw this, the sun's mother flinched and shook, as if all the youth and beauty of the king's bride had entered her. Only she had been that beautiful … long ago when she had been a maid. It was no wonder her son had stopped to look at her. But it ws not only Sol who did not seem willing to move anymore. The old woman also forgot why she had come and sat to listen to Lia's song._

_When she finally came out of the spell, the sun still had not moved and the world's moans reached her, reminding her why she had come here._

"_So this is it!" she sighed." That is why he's late. If it were not for the world and its suffering, I would not do anything. She is beautiful poor girl, but I cannot sit idly watch the order of things changed for the entire world would be gone …"_

_And with teary eyes, the sun's mother cast a spell over her son, moving him further and away from Lia. Once he could not see her anymore, the sun started following his natural course._

_Upon seeing this, the king greatly rejoiced and came to greet his bride in her room._

"_He is gone" the king said with hopeful eyes. "But I am here!"_

_Lia turned to him as tears flooded down her face at the loss of her lover. She did not speak. She opened the window and in a moment jumped out, going after Sol._

_But before she hit the ground, the sun's mother took pity on her and cast another spell. She transformed the king's bride into a small, grey bird and made it her fate to fly through the sky all through spring, straight towards the sun, enchanting him with her song forever … but she would always find him just out of reach._

_The little bird burst into the air and the sun began his movements. And all of a sudden … autumn came with rains and harsh winds …"_

Lia and Sol

1176 AD

The two bodies were laid over the wet grass, facing upward. The sun had not set yet and a few remaining rays fell over the chilling ground.

It was early March and still rather cold as was to be expected in this, the Northern part of the country but the children didn't seem to mind. They sat there as the wind rushed over them, looking at the sky.

Suddenly the boy jumped up: "Look, Lia! There they are!" he said and pointed towards a small flock of birds somewhere in the distance. The girl looked up as well and watched fascinated as the small, grayish birds made a dashing swirl through the air towards the sun. They flew closer and closer to it, seeming as if the last rays of the sun would engulf them and drag them down into the earth. They grew more daring and flung themselves into the open, bursting into song as if willing to enchant the sun into staying a little longer.

But the sun was gone, disappeared back into the horizon from which it would not wake until the next day. The birds remained there, flapping their wings and singing, as if hoping against hope that it would come back. A few moments longer and they understood their plight was useless. The flapping grew heavier and less energetic and the song was extinguished. They soon disappeared from the sky, back into the woods to lick their wounds and try again the next day. They were much like people, these birds … they never learned. It was in their nature to never give up hope.

Lia dropped her gaze back to the ground and sighed: "They didn't catch him this time."

"And they never will." the boy said, assuredly. "They're just little grey birds. Nothing more. They're not even that pretty."

Lia frowned and jumped to her feet. She turned her back on him and started walking. "I think they will," she mumbled. "One day they will."

He got up and started walking after her. He did not hurry, sure enough of the fact that his long legs would catch up with her brisk movements soon enough. "You're just a child," he said and shrugged. "You don't know anything."

"And you're a smug, tedious stinker!" She turned around and stuck her tongue out at him then quickly looked away and started walking again. The thin flower crown he had made for her hours earlier was now crooked on her head but she didn't notice.

He couldn't help but laugh at her reply and made two swift movements and promptly pulled at one of her plaits, as he was accustomed to doing ever since he could remember.

"Sol, stop it!" she said and pulled her plaits back in front of her. "Why do you always do that?"

He shrugged. He stood looking at her for a moment and then reached for the crown of flowers on her head, rearranging it in a less comical position.

She looked up at him as he did this, stretching her neck as far back as she could. He was so much taller then her now and thin as a feather. He was not very handsome, with his pointy ears and oblong face and his height made him look awkward, as if he could not find his center and was not sure what to do with his arms at times. He had been practicing with a broadsword and axe for the last 3 years and yet it had done very little for his lanky arms and legs, at least nothing that was visible with his clothes on. He had to hunch his back any time he wanted to walk through a door so he had become used to walking with his head dropped and looking at people from under one of his brows like he was doing now.

William de Bracy was much more handsome, she thought as if she was noticing it for the first time. He was just 2 years older then her but of a much stouter stock then Sol. He was shorter and heavier built, with strong arms and legs and a round head with permanently flushed cheeks that were a sign of a healthy, strong body.

Will liked her, she knew that. Every time he came to Sol's house he sought out her company. He would pick flowers for her and tell her jokes. He never made fun of her or pulled on her plaits, as Sol always did. He took everything she said seriously, as if she were a fully grown person and he often shunned his own friends just so he could talk to her.

Sol never did that. Most of the time he preferred being anywhere else but with her. It hadn't always been that way, of course. There had been a time when they did everything together. Not anymore, though. Not since the 5 year gap between them had seemed to get wider and wider.

However it did not seem like that tonight. As he removed his hands from the crown, he ran his fingers against her cheeks and brushed off a few strands of hair from her face.

"I'm not a child anymore, Sol. I will be 10 next month," she said holding out all her fingers.

"I know." He could barely hold in the smile at her choice of argument.

"And there's no reason to put on that cocky smile, either! Your mother was married when she was 12, Sol … 12."

"But you are not 12, Lia. Not yet, anyway," he said grabbing her hand. He started walking back, towards the manor that stood just over the hill.

"But I will be. And if you were to stay, perhaps …"

"So that's it, is it? You're still angry I'm going to leave."

"I don't understand why you're going."

"I've told you," he said, stopping halfway up the hill. "I'm going to become a man."

She rolled her eyes at that and began walking up the hill on her own, holding her skirts upwards and shoving her feet into the soft, muddy ground. "I still can't see why you couldn't become a man at the Huntingtons. It's just in walking distance from here and all your friends are there."

"I've already told you," he said, exasperated. "The Huntingtons were good to me these past 3 years but father wants better things for me. And so do I. The Earl of Durham is a powerful man. He holds the King's favor. He's also my father's cousin. He's bound to give me a position in time, to introduce me to men of rank and …"

"And to his daughter," she said turning around so swiftly that she sopped him in his tracks. "Your father wants you to marry her."

"Lia … you can't seriously think …We were promised in marriage 5 years ago. Everyone knows this."

"Promises can be taken back. And she is said to be very beautiful. And what of it?" she said, as if arguing with herself. She quickly wiped a tear with the back of her sleeve before going on: "Go marry your Maud. See if I care." She turned around and started walking again. "I'll marry William. See if I don't!"

This shocked him and he quickly came to her side, grabbing her hand and turning her around. "No, you won't! Don't even think about it, Lia. You promise me!"

"And if I don't?" she challenged.

"Promise me!" was the only thing he said. His eyes left no room for disobedience. They seemed to burn inside of her, both pleading and passionate. It shook her … this side of him she had not seen before. She instinctively understood that this was no longer her friend holding her by the shoulders but a man she didn't quite know but that claimed a certain possessive right over her. The notion both scared and enthralled her.

It was because he felt she belonged to him that he asked her this and she wanted nothing more then to belong to Sol … to please him. She found herself nodding. "Of course I won't. You know I could never …"

But he knew better. Despite what she said, Lia was still a child and a child's wishes and dreams swayed like the wind. He had them now, but would it always be this way? He didn't know exactly what he felt for her or what he was bound to feel 3 or 4 years from now but of one thing he was certain: he didn't want her thinking of bloody William de Bracy in that way. Or in any way, for that matter. "You must not speak to him again," he said as they began walking.

It was night now and the only light to guide them were the torch lights coming from the manor just in front of them. The fire cast a reddish light over her as she nodded, with her head bowed. "All right."

He stopped her just as she was about to open the gate. He held her hand between his own, rubbing his thumb against her skin. "You don't have to worry about Maud. You and I will be married when you come of age. I don't care what my father says. I promise, sweetheart." He spoke the last words in a whisper and lowered his head, kissing the inside of her small hand.

She blushed at the endearment. It was the first time he had used it and as they came into the light she saw he was blushing too.

As well he should. After all they were just children enacting an adult custom they barely understood. Tradition dictated that they act in this way but, as yet, it felt foreign and slightly out of place. Chasing birds or pulling on her plaits still felt like the right thing to do … and yet it was the last time they would ever do it.

"You will do as I say! You will marry her or else!"

"I won't! I've given my word to Lia and I mean to keep it," Sol said with all the authority his 15 years of age could muster.

"You will, damn you!" Richard said, grabbing the boy by the arm and shaking him. Sol was taller then him now but not strong enough to fight him. "I will not be defied by a boy!"

"He is right, Richard," his mother, Isabelle, intervened, speaking in a soft voice. "We have made a promise to her mother. It's as good as a contract between the two of them now. Remember that she entrusted the lands to you on account of them getting married when she came of age."

"Damn the contract and damn the lands! They were nothing but a nuisance anyway. Pack her things and send her to the nunnery with her mother."

Lia could hear them speaking in the great hall, from atop the stairs, even if they were whispering back and forth to each other. The low voices didn't make things any better. They were so filled with hate and rage that they might as well have been shouts for all the good they did.

Lia sat with her knees to her chest and listened. With every word her heart sank a little more until she was nothing but a mess of tears and silent sobs. She trembled, not so much from the cold that washed over her, but from the dread and anger. She bit on her nails until they were open wounds, willing herself not to give out a violent scream that would alert them to her presence.

"Her uncle is the Earl of Essex. We can't treat her that way," Isabelle tried again.

"And where is he?" Richard asked, mockingly. "He's never even seen the girl, much less contribute to her keep. I've had to feed her and clothe her since her father died 5 years ago while he's conveniently stayed away and taken care of his fortune in Nottinghamshire. He doesn't like the girl anymore then I do."

"You liked her well enough when you thought you could profit from her lands," Sol said, clenching his teeth.

"What did you say to me, boy?" Richard shouted, suddenly enraged and stood up from his seat, pushing the chair away from him. The sound made Lia flinch and she brought her hand up to her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

Sol wavered. His father's temper was a force to be reckoned with and when he drank he was as prone to violence as others were to celebrating and laughing. Still he went on: "You heard me. You were eager for me to take her when you thought there was gold to be found on her lands and now you've ruined them to the point that they're not fit to raise cattle on … And there's not one trace of gold anywhere."

"You sniveling little turd!" his father hissed. Sol knew well enough what came after and as his father's hand came crushing down on him, he closed his eyes and didn't move an inch. The slap was a mighty one and Sol hit the ground immediately. He ran his tongue over the bleeding lip and sat there as his father unfastened his belt.

"Richard, please! Don't!" his mother pleaded, coming closer to her husband. Even as she did this, her voice cracked, unsure as to whether she should say anything at all.

It seemed to calm Richard down a bit, though, as he lowered his belt. "You talk sense into him, woman! For I swear to God I will kill him," he said, still looking at his son.

"My lord, please. You must see … we are honorable people. We cannot do this." Her voice still held a rather strong French accent and the fear made the words tangle themselves in her mouth.

Richard turned around so quickly that it made Isabelle jump back in fear. "And you mean to say I am not honorable?" he hissed and raised his belt again, intent on hitting her.

Isabella gave out a cry and instinctively raised her hands to protect herself.

"No!" Sol shouted. He jumped to his feet and put himself in front of his father: "Leave her alone!"

For a moment Richard's raised arm stood still in mid air, dangling the belt. Then slowly the look of rage on his face changed … into something akin to hate and he lowered his hand. "Oh, how completely hers you are!" he said. "I … I try to make a man out of you and all I get is a whiney, weak, little idiot talking of love. Sometimes I wonder if you're mine at all. If she didn't breed you with some soldier in that God forsaken town in Normandy where you were born."

By now, Isabella had sat down in the nearest chair she could find and rested her elbows on the table in front of her, holding her face and sobbing violently. "How can you say such a thing to your own son?"

It was a preposterous thing to say and even Richard knew it. His son resembled him in everything, except in that which mattered most: obedience. That he kept safeguarded and away from him, using it when he saw fit.

And that Richard resented more then anything. After all obedience was a father's right, wasn't it? Hadn't his father demanded as much from him and hadn't he submitted? Hadn't he married Isabelle and her French connections because his father wished it so? And hadn't he been forced to give up the love of his life for it? Given up was not entirely true, of course. He had kept Nan as his mistress all these years and she had even borne him 3 children he loved more then anything. But still, he could not give them all that he would want them to have for in the eyes of the world they were bastards, forever marked, forever shortchanged. What he would not give to be able to offer Henry, his son, the opportunity he was now giving to this boy who seemed set on waging war on him for the love of a 10 year old girl and his narrow sense of duty. _She's not even that pretty_, he thought bitterly.

"He's not my son. He's a disgrace," Richard finally spat and took the goblet of wine from the table, drinking it all in an instant.

Sol swallowed back his pride and willed his chin from wobbling under the pressure of yet unshed tears. "Unlike Henry, I suppose …" was all he could manage to say.

"Aye! Now there's a good boy. I'm only sorry I married your mother instead of his. At least there I have no complaints."

Finally there was silence.

In that moment the sound of small, hurried feet could be heard from just behind the door. Bella ran down the stairs so quickly Lia was not able to catch her and she burst into the great hall with a large smile on her face. "Daddy!" she said and came straight for Richard, her arms already extended.

Richard turned around to look at his small daughter, who stood there barefoot, with her hair disheveled and could find nothing to say. "What are you doing up?" he asked eventually and his tone must have been very harsh indeed for the little girl's smile faded immediately. She was unsure of what to do and looked to her mother for assistance.

Isabella was still sobbing, although more quietly now and wasn't even looking at her. Bella turned to look at her brother who finally spoke to her: "Go on back to bed, Bella."

Still she didn't move. Not until her father took a step towards her and said not too kindly: "Well? What are you still doing here?"

The little girl turned around immediately and ran out of the room, Richard following to make sure she had gone up. There, atop the stairs, he saw her … the girl. That wretched girl.

She stood there holding Bella's hand, in her white, linen nightshift. He could see her bare legs trembling underneath, but her eyes were fixed on him, filled with fire and rage. They were large, black eyes that could drown a man's soul. Tears were streaming down her white skin like silver. She bit her lips to stop them from trembling and that only made them redder then they already were. Her hair was as black as night and trailed down around her, in an unbraided storm. He recanted his earlier thoughts on the spot. This was a face men had gone to war for.

"Ah, there she is!" he said taking a step towards her and stumbling, the alcohol raging through his body. "The she-devil herself!" He measured her from head to toe again … this wretched girl … this girl that seemed so afraid of him. "Just like her mother … a witch!"

Lia flinched. This was unlike him. She knew Sir Richard hated her but he had never been rude before. It must be the wine. Next day, without fail, he would seek her out and apologize. Then politely tell her it would perhaps be better, for the moment, if she were to visit her mother at the convent.

As she opened her mouth to speak, she saw Sol step out of the room and shake his head at her willing her back to silence. "Take Bella back to bed," was all he said and she bowed her head and did as she was told.

Richard spent another moment looking after the girl then headed for the door. He picked up his cloak and was about to leave when his son stopped him.

"Father …"

"Let him go." Isabella said, putting her hand on her son's shoulder. "Let him go back to his whore."

Richard's eyes hardened. "Better a whore's bed then yours, wife," he said before slamming the door.

July 1178 AD

_My dearest Sol,_

_Sol … when was it that I first called you that? … Oh, yes! I remember. I was five and we were hiding under the table, at the Hunttingtons. The night before, my mother had told us the story of the skylark, do you remember? There, under that table you announced that I was Lia and that you would let no one tear us apart. That when you were old enough you would marry me. _

_And I've held fast to that promise … wasn't that silly? A promise you made under a table, with sticky hands and cheeks from too much stolen honey. I realise now that whatever it is that is holding us together is not as strong as I once thought. It is entirely dependent on our relationship as people._

_That is why I grow anxious whenever I don't hear from you. I understand why you don't write more often. Or, better yet, my mind does. It tells me that you must be busy making a life for yourself, becoming the man that you dream of being and that I await even as I write this. But my heart … oh, my heart, dear Sol … it's a treacherous thing. It betrays me at every turn. _

_You see, I find it an unfair thing that men go out and see things, do things, learn how to be a part of the world where we women are forever on the outskirts of it. I'm not proud of this confession and I would not make it to anyone else but you. Locked up between the walls of this convent, I find the days dragging on endlessly. It suffocates me knowing how much of life is just beyond the borders set by these stones and that I am removed from it. You are there, though. In the middle of it or at least in the middle of mine … my world, that I, myself, seem to be removed from. It must be a cruel fate that makes people willingly enclose themselves in here. I don't know how my mother can stand it. All I know is that if I were to believe this to be the rest of my life, I would go mad. _

_Forgive me for these words. God knows it upsets me terribly to always write to you of sad things but you are, still, the only person that I can talk to. _

_I was reading a passage from the Bible today. I know it was wrong but, as I was practicing my Latin I could not help myself. It said that love should not be selfish. I took that to heart because I know I have been selfish with you. I have held you tightly to me because of your promise and what I wanted and I haven't stopped to think of what you might want. I haven't thought that perhaps my chains are suffocating you in the same way these cold walls are suffocating me. The last thing I want is for you to suffer, least of all by my hand. _

_From now on think of yourself as free … to do what you will. I cannot hold you captive and claim to love you at the same time. _

_As always,_

_your Lia_

August 1178 AD

_Ma belle,_

_I write these words in a hurry. We've been practicing all day and the messenger leaves within the hour. _

_Forgive me for not writing more often and forgive me for thinking you know my heart when you are so far away from me. Never give me up, Lia! Remember the skylarks. They never give up hope. Neither do I. You are always present in my mind. You alone have my heart. Remain calm; busy yourself with small things to make the days go by quickly. Only through determination will we achieve our purpose to be together, which is, believe me, what I desire above all things._

_Never think you can't tell me things. Write me of your sorrows and your troubles even if I can offer you only the smallest bit of comfort. _

_Keep my heart safe until I am there to claim it and never part from you again._

_Sol_

13


	2. Prologue part 2

A 10000 apologized to whoever has read the 1st part. I haven't posted anything on fanfiction in over a year and I forgot that if you don't edit the doc before posting, you can't change it after. Also I forgot that fanfiction has a problem with the stars I use to separate the scenes within the ch. It won't happen again!

That being said, this is a Guy-centered fic that started for me when I read the story of the skylark present in the 1st part. There will be references to the story in the plot and also all sorts of new stuff. The Robin Hood gang will be present as will Marian, but as I said Guy is the main character here. The story is a bit of a AU as I've decided to ignore the 2nd and 3rd season simply because I don't think this story would work with the Guy character after he has killed Marian. To me that was a line that once crossed ruined a lot of bridges.

That's about it. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

PROLOGUE

Part two

The convent

1181 AD

Lia sat on the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap. She kept looking at them, turning them over. An hour ago she had held earth between her fingers throwing it over the coffin. A day earlier she had used them to wash her mother's body. A week ago her hands had fed her mother while she lay in bed, wasted and barely conscious … They held no record of this. They were pristine, as if they had not just witnessed loss and emptiness.

She blinked quickly and a few tears fell from her cheeks and dropped in the palm of her hand. She looked at the glimmering, transparent liquid, suddenly fascinated by it.

Her mother's name had been Ana. Not Anne … Ana. A perfect circle, starting in an "a" and ending in one, as well. A whole world in and of itself. She had been beautiful but not in the way people thought of beauty. Her black hair and her dark set eyes spoke of the earth that had raised her … Her beauty frightened people. Her dark skin reminded them more of a war goddess then Aphrodite. She had been neither.

They said she could predict the future, a trait she had acquired from her gypsy ancestors. She spoke in a low voice, with a thick accent. In truth she spoke very little English and so she had taught her daughter, the language of her people … It spoke of a land where fearies freely walked among people, of Turks fighting with Christians, blazing passions that vanished as quickly as they came, of love and hate living together in complete and absurd harmony. Lia didn't understand most of it but she felt it, in some remote part of her body. There was a calling, something quite foreign and overwhelming that she did not quite understand. She knew it set her apart from others.

If they had tried to get to know her better, people would have seen that Lia's mother was very kind. In fact, it was what Lia most remembered about her. Her mother speaking to her in a low, tender voice while she brushed her hair, 500 strokes every night.

She had taught her patience. She said that waiting was a woman's trade and it was just as perilous as going to war. Women wait to be asked to marry, then they wait to be pregnant and then they wait for the child to grow. If any of these steps are lost along the way, a woman's life falls apart. That is the price they paid, she said, for leading a life devoted to someone else.

Lia looked around the room, a sparsely furnished space which she and her mother had shared for the last 5 years. Lia had hated it. The convent did not seem a place of refuge for her, but a prison. And this had been her cell. Yet now she dreaded leaving it.

At least here, whilst it was isolated, she still felt close to everything that had given her life meaning. All she wanted now, all she could hope for and wait for was for him to come … but he tarried and even she, who for so long had held fast to the belief that he would not abandon her, began to doubt.

She could hear them in the next room, talking about her, discussing her future as if it were a battle of wills between the two of them: Sol's mother on one side and her uncle on the other. But it wasn't ... it was her life. She felt helpless and she hated the feeling. It was as if, all of a sudden, she had lost herself, had been reduced to a transparent shadow that could be dragged this way and that, to the pleasure of others.

For once she wanted everything to stop. She pulled the covers off the bed and got in, covering herself all the way up. She wanted to remain there, anchored to that bed until he came for her.

-oOo-

"I don't understand why Eleanor can't remain here for the time being," Isabelle said, finally sitting down on a chair next to the window. She directed her question at the man facing her but she kept stealing quick glances out the window. She knew her son would never forgive her if she didn't manage to at least keep Eleanor here until he arrived. More then that she knew she could not do. She could see the Earl was already set on taking her away but she was dammed if she would let him take her before Lia and her son had a chance to say their good-byes.

"I will say it again, Madam. Eleanor's place is with me, her kin, not locked up in a convent, removed from everything. It's hardly what a girl of 15 should be doing. She requires teaching in the way of the world."

Isabelle jumped up at this. "We've always taking care of her. She knows all a young girl of her age and status should. I saw to that myself."

"And yet she is unmarried," Geoffrey stated bluntly. He was beginning to lose his patience. They had locked her up in here with the mother who knew nothing of what a girl with Eleanor's prospects should be taught and now they were professing to have taken care of her.

"When my son comes …"

"And when is that going to be? He hasn't seen his bride in 5 years. Surely he must be anxious."

Isabelle shook her head. This man was a fool. He knew nothing of her or her son. He didn't even know anything about his own niece. Isabelle was more her kin than this man could ever be. She had seen her grow. She had been the one who had to placate Richard in his attempts to rid himself of her. She had been the one to encourage his son's love for her … And now this man was going to take her away. "He is, Sir," she said. "More then you'll ever know. My son's loved Eleanor since before he could remember and now you are going to ruin his life. Be sure, my lord, that my son is most anxious."

"Let us not pretend, Madam. The contract was highly beneficial for your family when it was first agreed upon. After all, my brother's lands were no small matter and united with your own … well, I can see the sense in that. But the lands are ruined now and from what I've heard your husband is one step away from losing them."

Isabelle turned her head and swallowed but said nothing. Her proud face seemed shrunked and and her cheeks flamed. Richard was doing nothing but shame her these days. That and squandering his son's chances without the slightest thought.

"Now, there is the matter of _my_ lands and _my_ title. I have no living heir, aside from Eleanor so all that I have will go to her upon my death, and through her, to her husband, of course. " Geoffrey measured his words carefully. He knew what an incentive his fortune was. It would make any man more then willing to wed Eleanor and, as such, she could do better than this boy, who aside from a somewhat illustrious family tree, had almost nothing to his name. "What if I was to say that your son would never receive my fortune if he was to marry her? What if all he could have was her hand and little else? Surely, he thinks more of himself. He'll want a large dowry to go with a pretty face and there's a throng of less noble girls out there in need of a good name."

Isabelle had been a great beauty once. Her long, blond hair had been the pride of Normandy. Her striking, icy blue eyes could dart into the heart of any man and her milk-white skin had been a particular vanity of hers. But her husband's rejections and the troubles he had brought over them had marked her. Her skin had weathered before its time, leaving deep trenches of battles long ago lost. She did not have the strength to fight anymore. In the past, she would have spat in the face of anyone who dared to slight her family in such a way but now she simply took a deep breath before responding ... She was painfully aware of how far they had fallen. "My son does not want your lands, my lord. I know it must seem strange but all he wants is the girl. He loves her."

Geoffrey shook his head, half in disbelief and half in amusement. "That is all well and good but love will not keep them from starving. On what does he propose they should live?"

His question was disregarded as soon as Isabelle heard the sound of a horsemen approaching. She turned around to look out the window. She could barely make out the shape of her son dismounting in the court yard and she already jumped up and ran out the door, without even a second thought for the man in front of her.

Geoffrey bowed deeply as she passed by him and headed for the window once she was gone. He wanted to see this boy they had been talking about for himself and was surprised by what he found.

He was a tall, lanky boy and thin as a scarecrow. He looked tired and disheveled, as if he had been riding for hours at an end. It was certainly not his looks that had enthralled his niece to such a degree.

His mother came running out at the gate and he greeted her with a quick hug and then listened absorbed as she, undoubtedly, told him what they had discussed. He bowed his head for a moment and shook it back and forth. Geoffrey thought he made out, at least, one word he was saying and it was: No! …

No! To what Geoffrey did not know but as he looked up and straight at him, the boy's blue eyes chilled him to the bone. They were unwavering in their rage. Those eyes he had seen on his mother as well and they had struck him then too but the boy's had the advantage of youth. They were not yet dulled down. Geoffrey doubted they could ever be. This was a man that got what he wanted, at whatever cost. He doubted the boy, himself was yet aware of the power of his gaze or the stubbornness it foretold.

-oOo-

Isabelle came into the room quietly. She could just barely make out the small frame under the covers, all coiled up, out of sight. She came and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, before gently shaking Eleanor by the shoulder.

"Dear … are you alright?" There was no answer so she continued: "He's here, Eleanor. He's come. He's waiting in the church."

Lia gave out a sigh of relief, at last, after hours of torment and threw the covers away. She jumped up from the bed and ran straight for the door.

She didn't waste time putting on her shoes or arranging her hair. She just pulled up her skirts and ran as fast as she could, barefoot and with her hair unbraided, trailing down her back, through the corridors and past the yard, towards the chapel.

Sol had been waiting inside for some time now. As the minutes went by he grew more and more anxious. The sound of the door opening made him turn around at once, all his senses heightened. His heart skipped a beat at seeing her in the doorway.

She stood there, breathless, her eyes filled with hope and excitement. She was still her … his best friend, Lia. The girl whose plaits he used to pull and yet … she had grown. There was roundness where there hadn't been before. Her chest rose and fell so fast that the mere movement made him dizzy with something he had not thought he could feel for her. He had always cared for her, he knew that, but he would have never believed that she was capable of arousing such passions inside of him … and all this by her mere presence. One look from her, from those black eyes that seemed to see inside his very soul; one sight of that sea of black hair that surrounded her and he was lost.

Suddenly he felt awkward and heartbroken … Not only was he not rich enough to be worthy of her but she was far too beautiful for it to be an equal match on that account as well. Without even realizing he took a step back.

Lia didn't even notice. She hesitated for a moment but could contain herself no longer. She ran to him and embraced him as hard as she could, never wanting to let go, pouring all of her anguish and all her longing in that one, simple gesture. "You came!" she said and began to cry. "I've been so afraid, Sol. So very afraid. But I'm not anymore."

He didn't say anything. After a moment, he brought his arms up and put them around her.

"He says he's going to take me away but I know you won't let him."

He was barely able to speak. She had put all her hopes and dreams in his charge. He knew she had always idolized him, seen him as being capable of anything. It hadn't bothered him in the past. He even prided himself on it … But not now. Not now that he had to admit his shortcomings, his utter impotence. "There is nothing I can do." He spoke the words slowly, coldly, not the slightest tremor in his voice.

She raised her head from his shoulder, still refusing to let go. She looked into his eyes for a moment, to see if he was speaking in earnest. She realised that he was. "What are you saying?". The implications of his words shook her with dread. It would mean that … No! It could not be. "What are you saying?" she asked again, the urgency evident in her voice.

He sighed and broke from her embrace. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold all of a sudden.

"He refuses to let us marry," he said, as if he was stating a mere fact. He seemed so in control of his emotions, it shocked him and he knew that his coldness had managed to hurt her. He hated it! The last thing he would want to do was hurt Lia and now she was crying because of him. But what could he do?

"Convince him!"

"How? I have nothing to bargain with."

"Then we'll run away together." She came towards him and took his hand. He pulled away.

"No! I will not ruin your reputation. I couldn't live with myself."

"I don't care about my reputation!" she screamed and began to cry, loudly. Why was he doing this?

"But I do!" he said, matching her tone. He shook his head as he saw her struggling to breathe, under the pressure of her tears. He came towards her, taking her in his arms and caressed her hair. "I'm sorry, Lia. Perhaps it was wrong of me to have promised something when I knew there was a chance it could not happen."

His words fell like a stone. She pushed him away. "Do you mean to say that it is over? That you are simply going to give up?"

"Lia …"

"No!" she screamed. "This is about the money, isn't it? He said he wouldn't give you anything if you married me and so I'm no longer of interest."

This offended Sol, more then he cared to admit. It was not only that she should think it but that his present condition made it so plausible. "That is not the reason and you know it very well, but tell me, Lia, do you know what it's like to be poor? Having to worry about whether you're going to survive until tomorrow?"

Lia closed her eyes and shook her head. The tears fell freely now and she didn't even try to hide it. She had given up every shred of dignity she thought she had and she collapsed onto the nearest bench. "I've spent five years locked up in here because you told me to trust in you, that it was the only way we could one day be together. I've borne the isolation and your father's mockery and now you talk to me about coins and food. Don't you know I'd die before parting from you? "

Sol sat on the bench next to her. He wiped her tears away but could not bring himself to hold her again. "Please, stop. Don't you think this is hard for me as well? My God, marrying you was all I've ever wanted." He put his hands around her face as tenderly as he could and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. The crying had made her eyes red. She drew sharp breaths and sighed often, unable to catch her breath. The sight of her almost brought him to tears as well but he willed himself to stop. He was a man, now. Nearly 20. It would not do! "Don't you see I have nothing to offer you? You'll be better off without me."

"If you say that one more time I will die!" She threw herself in his arms again, holding on to him as if he would disappear at any moment. "What about the Earl? You said he liked you. That he was sure to give you a position."

"I've lost his favor," he said, crestfallen. "Since it became clear I had no intention of marrying his daughter, he can't even bear to look at me. Perhaps it would have been better …" he said, before stopping, realizing what he had just said.

Lia looked at him, her tears momentarily subdued by the shock. "You mean to say that you regret not having married Maud?"

"Can you blame me?" he said, looking away, "you'll be married within the month, as sure as I stand here and then what will I have?"

Her slap came as a shock, as much to him as to her. She jumped form the bench, holding her hand that burned under the impact with his skin. "I hate you!" she said. She stood there a moment longer, waiting for him to speak.

He said nothing. The anger at her slight vanished almost immediately and he lowered his head in shame at the look of rage and pain he had caused her.

"You have nothing more to say to me?" she asked. Still no answer. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand and she took a deep, decided breath. "All right, then! Farewell."

She headed for the door calmly at first but as the tears threatened to overtake her, she began to run and flung the doors open, not bothering to close them.

Sol remained there… motionless. There! It was done … whatever debt he had towards her had been paid. Their understanding was broken and they would both go on their own way. He would never see her again.

It was that particular thought that, at last, brought him to tears. He covered his mouth with his hand and sat there, unable to believe what he had just done.

An hour later, Lia was ready to leave. She had packed her few belongings and she now let her uncle usher her through the corridors, towards the coach in the yard. She had wrapped her veil around her face without giving it any thought and the white, sheer fabric almost dissolved into the paleness of her face. It seemed as if she wasn't even there, as if her body was simply going through the motions of walking. She clutched in her hands a small bag that held the things she thought of as most precious in life: her mother's veil and Sol's letters.

Upon entering her chamber, after their discussion, she had attempted to destroy them. But as she held the papers over the fire, she found her body shaking so uncontrollably that she knew she could not do it.

"You must not let him see you like this," Geoffrey whispered in her ear as they reached the yard. "Have you no pride?"

She ignored her question and pulled her arm out of his grip. She looked around the yard, towards the church. There was no sign of him. She lowered her head and headed for the coach. The door was locked behind her and she coiled up in a corner, looking aimlessly out the window.

It felt like an eternity until her uncle made his way round and got in. He banged on the door to signal the coachman and, in a moment, the cart began to move. It jolted her, sending a sharp pain deep down in her stomach but she ignored it.

As it began to pick up speed, she thought she heard a voice calling her name. She didn't listen to it at first, not trusting her senses but the voice grew more insistent. She turned around, to look outside the small rear window and saw Sol running after the them. He desperately tried to keep up but the coach was moving too fast and he was already losing ground. All he could do was shout her name and so he did, over and over again.

Lia's state shifted in a moment from apathy to frenzied agony. "Stop the coach!" she screamed, already shaking the door open. She banged on the walls and looked to her uncle for assistance. "Stop the coach!"

As soon as it had stopped, she jumped out and started running, tripping over her skirts towards him. He was running as well, finally allowing himself a smile at seeing her coming. As they came together, they almost smashed into each other in a desperate embrace.

"Forgive me, Lia! I'm such a fool! Forgive me! I thought I could give you up but God help me, I can't!" he said, speaking all at once and laughing. He kissed her cheeks and her forehead.

Lia was laughing as well, holding on to him as tightly as she could.

"I'm not sorry I didn't marry Maud. I will never marry anyone unless it's you." He quickly reached for the pocket of his doublet and took out two identical necklaces. "Look! I had these made for us," he said, hading one of them to her.

She looked at it. A small silver medallion on a leather chain. Hers had a beautifully ornate letter 'S' on it. She brought it to her lips and kissed it, looking at him and then put it around her neck. "I will never take it off!" she promised.

In the distance, Sol saw Sir Geoffrey coming towards them. This made him hurry his speech. He put the other necklace around his neck, this one bearing a letter 'L' and took her hand into his own. "Wait for me, ma belle! I will come. No matter how long it takes I will come and I will prove to your uncle that I am worthy of you. Will you wait?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her face as close to him as possible. "I will wait forever."

Her honest promise brought a smile to his face. Lia never loved him more then when he smiled. Sol didn't smile often but when he did, the sun itself didn't shine brighter.

"I love you!" he said and before really thinking about it, he lowered his head and kissed her.

They had known each other for 15 years and yet this was their first kiss: their faces connecting, mixing their tears together; their lips brushed against each other, lightly stroking at the flesh they were encountering.

It was a deeply tender kiss and Lia would replay the moment in her mind for years to come. Her whole world, in that moment, seemed to revolve around that small closeness between the two of them.

She was the one to break it at hearing her uncle behind her, calling her to him. She looked up at him and he could see the fear in her eyes, the doubt at what was to be. "Come for me!" she begged and took a few steps away from him.

Sol found he could not let go of her hand. He looked at her and then back at her uncle, who was growing more and more impatient. "I will!" he promised and brought her hand to his lips.

Soon their uncle was next to them and he was pulling Lia away. Her arm remained extended and she slipped through his fingers.

"Wait for me!" he said and started running after the coach again as Lia watched him, halfway out the window as he drifted further and further away from her. She couldn't help but wonder if their souls could stretch far enough to cover the distance between them and ultimately bring him back to her. All she could do was wait.

-oOo-

1183 AD

Nottinghamshire

Geoffrey de Maudville had been a powerful man. The Earl of Essex and heir to some of the most bountiful lands in the country. He had married three times, every time to proper and landed women. They had enriched his fortunes and had even loved him. That had not been hard for he was a handsome man although rather shorter then what was regarded as average.

He had lived rightly and properly and yet he had no children. His wives,all died before their time, two in childbearing and another of the plague, but Geoffrey had not been crushed by it.

He did not really understand love. That had always been his brother's domain … John … the adventurer. The man that was sent to exotic, foreign lands and had brought a wife back from his travels.

Geoffrey had hated his brother's wife from the first moment he had seen her. He hated her because she was the proof that his brother did what he wanted, without thinking of the consequences as he, Geoffrey, always felt he had to and he hated her because if he had seen her first he would probably have done the same thing.

He had blamed the woman for his estrangement from his brother. As the oldest son, he had given John his just due, the lands his father had left for him in the North and then he had turned his back on him. Geoffrey had not seen his brother since that moment, something he would come to regret as he died only two years later.

He had not spared his brother's widow or his daughter a second thought. That is until the death of the wife made him begrudgingly accept that the daughter would be his only living heir … a girl just as beautiful as her mother and just as stubborn as his brother. She, too, understood love … all too keenly.

The girl had no love for him and he could not, in all honesty, fault her. He had uprooted her from everything she had known and from the man she had built her whole life around. He should have let her marry the boy, he knew that now. He truly loved her and it had been only his dire circumstances that had stopped him from marrying her. Now it was too late … He had written to her for an entire year and then, without so much as a word, he had stopped. Eleanor had been heart broken and in her pain she turned her anger on him, accusing him of hiding his letters from her.

The truth was, Geoffrey knew, far more simple and painful then that. The boy had simply lost interest, found other things to worry about. Discreetly, he had kept informed about the boy's movements until he disappeared into the obscurity of the destitute. It was through his investigation that he had learned of Sir Richard's bad management of his lands and his shameful flight from the battle field that had led to accusations of treason and loss of his lands. In two swift moves the man had managed to leave his entire family on the street. It was now up to the son to support his mother and young sister, any way he could. How he was managing, Geoffrey no longer knew. He was, probably, looking for some rich heiress to turn his fortunes around and so had forgotten the girl whom he had every reason to think would come to the marriage bed with nothing but the clothes on her back.

Geoffrey had no way of letting the boy know that he would be willing to give Eleanor away with all her fortune and title and he was glad for it. His pride would not allow him to beg someone to marry his niece, especially a man that had been marked by treason and ridicule.

And then, it wasn't that there were no other options. Moreover, in the two years that Eleanor had lived with him, he had received several offers for her hand, all from only the very best gentlemen of the land. After all, she was a beautiful, educated, well mannered girl. There was nothing more a man could want, especially considering the large fortune she would bring to the marriage.

But Eleanor had refused all the offers. When he had tried to impose his will on her, he had hit a stone wall of cold refusal. She had had fits of rage and weeping, even going as far as refusing to eat for a whole week.

Geoffrey was not a cold man and in hurting the daughter, he feared he would conjure the anger of the long lost brother who would, undoubtedly, have understood her better then anyone. So, he had let the matter lay.

Now, on his death bed, Geoffrey had to accept the fact that Eleanor would probably never marry. This he did not tell her, out of kindness. The girl still held fast to the belief that her childhood friend would come for her and he knew that if she ever understood the truth, she would never recover.

He did not want her to suffer. Despite everything he had grown fond of her, especially since he had fallen sick and she had spent many a night at his bedside offering what comfort she could. He had not expected that but he soon understood that, above all else, Eleanor had a kind heart. It was her heart that allowed her to trust so blindly, when there was clearly no hope. It was her best trait and yet, ironically, her downfall. Had she been a little more self interested she would be happier.

"Uncle, are you comfortable?"

Her soft voice and her hands lifting the back of his head to rearrange the pillow brought Geoffrey back from his reverie. "Are you still here, Eleanor?"

"Of course, I am. Where else would I be?"

"You should be outside, riding or walking. It's such a beautiful day. You should not spend it inside, taking care of an old man."

Eleanor smiled and pressed a wet cloth against Geoffrey's cheeks and lips, both scorched with fever. "There will always be beautiful days. You are sick. You need me."

Geoffrey smiled faintly and put his hand over hers. "I wish you'd reconsider Simon de Gant's proposal. He would give you a good life."

Eleanor withdrew her hand and looked away. She busied herself with washing the cloth and then picking up the hot broth she had prepared for him. She took a spoon and began feeding him. "You know my answer. Please don't insist upon the matter," she said and then smiled sheepishly, "And besides, Simon the Gant has foul breath and spends all his time talking of war."

"He is a man. War is a noble occupation. You'll be hard pressed to find a man who does not spend his time talking about it."

"Sol didn't …" She spoke the name quietly.

Geoffrey sighed but did not challenge her on it. He knew better then to disagree with her on anything that had to do with her lover. "So you are still determined to wait for him."

"Yes," Eleanor spoke calmly, as if entirely aware of what it meant to wait for someone who was not coming.

"I can't pretend to be surprised by your decision. In any case I have taken steps to protect you."

"What do you mean?"

"Eleanor, I'm going to be dead soon" He stopped her before she had a chance to object, "You know I will. In your present condition all my fortune and my title, your rightful inheritance, will revert back to the crown. That would leave you destitute and I can not allow that. I have given the administration of my lands over to Richard of Hendred, the abbot of Abingdon Abbey. He is an old friend and I trust him to take care of you … that is, until your boy comes and you can marry."

Eleanor sighed in relief. It was apparent that the plan agreed with her.

Geoffrey gave her a sad smile before telling her the rest: "But this will mean … that upon my death, you will have to retire to the convent where you will be under the abbot's protection."

Eleanor looked up as she began to understand. She bit her lip at the prospect of returning to the isolation of monastic life. She finally nodded and said: "All right." before turning her attentions to the cup of broth she was holding in her hand. "Now eat before it gets cold."

Geoffrey did as she bid. She was quite a lovely girl, he thought. It was a pity all that beauty would bloom and fade, out of sight, between the walls of a convent, where no one wouold admire it or enjoy it.


	3. Chapter 1

I'm finally able to post the 1st chapter. Hope you've enjoyed the story so far as this is just beginning. Thank you for your reviews and keep them coming. lol

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CHAPTER 1

Guy of Gisborne was a tall man. This had come early to him, in the beginning seeming a curse, making him awkward and frail where others of his age were strong and able. In time though it had proved to be a blessing of sorts. His stature alone commanded fear and authority. He towered over almost every man he came in contact with and through time he had learned to look down upon them, as if from some higher place that he had secured for himself with tenacity and determination. He had worked his body tirelessly, making his arms and legs strong and his posture confident. Now he could break a man's spirit as much by the use of his arms as by the merciless, icy blue gaze he inflicted upon them.

He was a handsome man although, everyone agreed, not in the way that was considered traditional. He had a sharp, long nose that made his face seem sombre and severe, even on the rare occasion when he smiled. His hair was jet black and his complexion darker then most. This fared well under the unforgiving sun in the months of summer which was a good thing as he was out and about most of the time, never seeming to have time to take rest. He took care in his appearance but it all came rather naturally to him, as opposed to other men of high standing who were far more prone to adorning and pampering their bodies.

He donned black clothes from head to toe and it furthered his reputation as 'Satan's ward'. He knew this and wore his clothes as much for their power to intimidate as for pride. The black leather was at all times adorned with the insignia of the wolf, his family's emblem ... A family that had once been one of the greatest in the realm and that had, through mindless management and bad luck, fallen from grace. Guy had strived to raise his family's name and by 1193 he could say he was well on his way.

He had done this by eliminating anything from his life that could distract him from his goal. More importantly it had been achieved by his willingness to undertake any task, however repugnant or ungodly, that he felt would further his cause. He knew people regarded him as a fallen man, sure to have earned himself a place in hell but he did not care. Better a place in hell in the afterlife then one in the gutter, in England. To show how little he cared, he had even named one of his dogs, a black wolfhound, Satan. They had become quite an inseparable pair as this particular dog insisted on fallowing his master everywhere he went, no matter the distance or weather. It looked morose and ready to attack at any moment, baring its teeth when someone got too close.

People had learned to stay out of the dog's way as much as out of the master's.

Guy's entire life had been defined by energy and a refusal to be idle, for idleness would have certainly brought back the hunger and humiliation of the past, and so he kept busy, at all times. But today, as he walked the long hallways of Nottingham Castle towards his chambers, even Guy of Gisborne felt drained of energy.

He had not slept in over two days, moving around Nottingham like a devil in black, going about the Sheriff's business, a man responsible for both Guy's good fortune and his constant worries.

All he wanted now was a soft, clean bed and a bottle filled with wine … He dusted his coat off before entering the rooms, as he was covered in dust from head to toe.

What he encountered on the other side of the door was a bit more then he had bargained for.

Laying naked, atop of his bed was Agnes, his mistress. Her hair was spread around her and she seemed engulfed in a sea of red curls. She smiled mischievously and ran her tongue over her lips at seeing him. "My lord … I thought I'd surprise you."

He could not help a half smile from blooming on his lips.

He had found Agnes, three years back .. the plump, pretty wife of a merchant. She had come to his bed enthusiastically and she had brought him many moments of utter delight.

He appraised her from head to toe. She was quite beautiful, he could not deny that. Her white skin and the paleness of her face contrasted most perfectly with the blue of her eyes. The rest of her features seemed to melt into each other, so fair was she but those eyes sparkled and intrigued, enticed and beckoned with so much intensity that it did not matter.

"I thought I told youI'd send for you," he said, meaning to be stern. She just shrugged and smiled, quite certain that it did not displease him as much as he wanted her to think it had.

He couldn't help but smile at her confidence. Redheads were said to bring bad luck but Guy suspected the omen had more to do with their temperament then their hair color. Most men preferred meek women, especially in bed. He did not. He enjoyed the fire and the passion of a woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her. The idea of imposing himself on a weak, little girl so frozen by fear that she was hardly able to move seemed demeaning to him and rather disgusting.

No such thing with Agnes, though … She was lively and intelligent enough to recognize opportunity. He pampered her when it did not take too much out of him and he enjoyed their times together more then he was willing to admit.

The expectation became too much for Agnes to bear so she shifted her position, moving on to her side and resting her head on her arm. Her hair came falling down around her, brushing against her skin and making her shiver at the contact.

Guy had seen enough. He quickly discarded his cloak and his gloves and came towards her. "You have been a bad girl, Agnes. You should be punished," he said, unfastening his belt. It came crashing to the ground as he climbed on the bed.

She greeted him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck and then with one hand, caressed a healing scar, near his eye. His face twitched slightly at the touch, and he was visibly displeased at her acknowledging it. She brought her face up and whispered in his ear: "Marian's a fool!" before beginning to kiss the side of his jaw, running her tongue over the rugged skin.

He allowed her that comment since at the moment he was far too pleased by everything else she was doing. As she began pulling on his doublet, he gave in and relaxed.

It was at that particular moment that he heard a rather loud and intrusive knock on the door. "My lord …"

Guy grunted and growled as Agnes dropped back on the pillow unsure as to whether he'd want her to proceed. He kept looking at her as he shouted to the man outside: "Go away, Thomas! I'm busy!"

"I'm sorry, my lord, but my lord, the Sheriff, requires your presence in the Great Hall."

Guy drew in a sharp breath as he looked over Agnes's disappointed face like a lion whose just been taken away from his prey. "Don't move!" he said as he rolled off her. His voice was commanding and cold but his eyes promised pleasures untold if she obeyed.

She remained in that same position but just spread her legs that bit further. "I'll wait for you."

Guy turned towards the door. He knew she was baiting him and she was doing quite a job of it. "You are indeed a very bad girl, Agnes, my sweet, and when I get back, you will get your just deserts."

He turned to her for a moment and smiled, making her smile as well. He winked and then in a moment he was gone, out the door and towards the Sheriff.

He did not hurry down the corridors, this time. If the Sheriff wanted him after 2 days of endless work, he would have to wait. As he entered the room he saw the Sheriff siting behind his desk. But this time, he was not lounging there as he usually did with his feet on the table, wearing a loose robe or something similar, inappropriate and insulting. He was perfectly attired and had even taken the trouble of putting on his badges and honors. His posture was stiff and he spoke in a reserved, even polite way … Guy was intrigued.

He knew what his role had to be as soon as he saw the man sitting in front of the Sheriff. He was a pale, sickly looking man with drawn out lips and an austere countenance. A man of God, judging by his robes and the heavy cross hanging around his neck, but also a man of the world, judging by his weary expression. Guy had the disagreeable task of glowering at the man, looking menacing while the Sheriff was all affability and asked whatever it was he wanted from him and feared he would not get.

"Ah!" the Sheriff said, acknowledging Guy. "Here is Lord Gisborne, my second in command. I thought it wise to have him present, if you don't mind?"

The man just nodded calmly, sparing Guy but a passing glance.

"This is the Bishop of Winchester."

Guy bowed deeply and the man extended his hand. Guy kissed the ring on his finger, making the Sheriff twist his face in disgust.

Guy didn't care. He didn't know the Bishop but he respected his title, as should the Sheriff had he any respect for rank or tradition. After performing the act, he sat himself at the far end of the table, leaning back in his chair. He picked an apple from the table and began cutting into it with precise, sharp strokes.

The Sheriff smiled, looking back at the Bishop. "You'll have to forgive Sir Guy. He's been trailing the lands looking for the abominable Hood. It's enough to turn anyone into a savage."

"And have you found him?" the Bishop asked, turning to look at Guy. "From what I've heard they're a handful of peasants, hidden in the forests. Surely they're no match for you …"

The mockery was not lost on Guy. His eyes turned colder as he responded: "I will."

"I will pray to God that you do, Sir Guy! After all, what will the world come to if the honest people of this land have to fear being stripped of their rightful fortunes on a moment's whim?"

The Bishop's words were directed at Guy but their meaning was not lost on the Sheriff. "I think you misunderstand me, my lord Bishop. I do not intend to strip anyone of anything. I am simply interested in seeing those lands put to proper use, seeing as they neighbor my own."

"They are being put to proper use and even more so when the lady will marry."

The Sheriff smiled, mockingly. "From what you have told me the lady is not likely to ever marry."

"That is for God to decide, my lord Sheriff, not for you." The Bishop frowned, angrily and managed to silence Vasey. He stood up, as if to put an end to their conversation. "Eleanor of Maudville has been my ward for the past 10 years. She was put in my care by the Earl of Essex, her uncle, so that I might ensure she was, at all times, treated fairly and well. God willing, that is what I intend to do for as long as necessary."

As the Bishop said his good-byes and headed for the door, accompanied by the Sheriff, Guy found it hard to move. He remained sitting,long after the words were spoken.

The Sheriff turned and looked at him for a moment before speaking. "Will you join us, Gisborne?"

The voice jolted Guy to his feet and he nodded soberly, following closely behind the two men.

The Sheriff had not yet given up hope to sway the man in his favor and as they walked the corridors towards the yard, he sweetened his tongue to the point of nausea. "I do understand that you are bound by your honor to watch over this blameless and virtuous woman and I would not have it any other way. I would make sure that both the lady and her pious protector would be well taken care of if ..."

The Bishop sighed deeply and turned to look at him for the first time since they began walking. "I will be honest with you, Vasey. You are a vile creature. You think only of your greed and your pride and so can't imagine anyone who does not make an idol to worship out of a golden coin."

The Sheriff's eyes were wild with rage and humiliation, yet he swallowed back his words. The Bishop was far too powerful to attack outright, for the moment at least.

He allowed the Bishop to return to courteous words and farewells and remained watching his cart move away from the castle for a long while.

Guy stood by his side and silently watched him. He knew the Bishop had sealed his fate by what he had said and had put that woman he seemed so desperate to protect in great danger. The Sheriff might not be strong enough to strike now but he would not give up until he had destroyed him.

"What have you to do with her?" Guy finally asked.

The Sheriff smiled viciously. "The unthinkable, Gisborne … the unthinkable. If I can't buy the damned priest or scare him into giving up the lands … I shall have to marry the old hag."

Guy's jaw clenched for a moment before he turned and walked away.

-oOo-

The children sat around her, eyes wide in amazement as Eleanor told the story, moving her arms through the air and changing her voice to signal danger or fear, happiness or laughter.

There was silence throughout the convent, as even some of the nuns stopped and listened from behind the pillars, smiling at Eleanor's story. Her voice rose above the wind, followed by the noise of the children gasping or clapping whenever something exciting happened.

Beth watched from a distance, smiling, surprised, even after all this time to see the transformation in Eleanor. Most of the time, you could pass by and not even notice her, a shadow of a woman as she was, thin and drawn and pale as a sheet.

But now as she told the story, Eleanor's eyes were ablaze, at once both dark and light, gleaming and sparkling like the stars themselves. She was no more the quiet, tragic figure of the convent, but a princess and a knight in shinning amour and a fearsome dragon with ice in his veins.

A few strands of hair had, inevitably, fallen from under her veil and it seemed to soften her features. And she smiled … a most glorious smile that she kept only for these moments but that reminded Beth of how beautiful she must have been once.

"And the dragon of thunder raced through the air, coming straight at Sol, meaning to crush him with one of his deadly bolts," Eleanor said, showing the movement with her hands.

The children were straining forward with anticipation. One of the little girls could bear it no longer and asked: "And then … what did Sol do?"

Eleanor smiled and her gaze became fierce. "Well … at the very last minute, Sol took out the magic dagger the witch had given him and ran it straight through the dragon's heart." Eleanor's arm plunged through the air stopping inches away from the face of a little boy who watched the movement in fascination. "And you know what? There was no heart to be found, for the dragon was pure evil. All that came out was a dark, putrid liquid that washed over the land and made all of the dragon's witchery and spells disappear."

"And Lia …?" the same little girl asked.

"Lia, too, was freed from the dragon's castle and she was at once reunited with her beloved. And …"

"And they both lived happily ever after," the girl ended for her and sighed. "Do you think things like that happen in real life?"

One of the boys sitting next to her shook his head and said: "Don't be a goose! It's just a fairytale!" before promptly pulling on one of her plaits.

Eleanor smiled at the gesture, even as she saw the little girl pouting. "They do, Meg. If you are very good and pray very hard, God will give you all that you wish for."

She looked over them a moment longer, before standing up. "Now, off with you. All of you. Go eat."

The children reluctantly stood up and began walking towards the dinning hall, but not before having made Eleanor swear to tell them another story the next day. Every day she would tell a story and every day, after she had finished, they would ask her to swear. It had become a little custom between them.

Only after they had all gone, did Beth approach Eleanor. "Why don't ya' tell 'em?"

"Tell them what?"

"Tha' your stories are just tha' … stories. Nobody lives happily ever after in the real world."

Eleanor took Beth's arm and rubbed her hand against hers, before the both of them began walking. "You don't know that … and neither do I. Yes, it is true. You have received the worst of life and I none of it but it does not stand the case that it will be the same for them. Let them believe in happy endings and they will make their own way in the world."

Beth smiled, as always not quite understanding the sense in what Eleanor was saying but liking the sound of her calm, confident voice just the same. She looked at her face, wishing she could reach out and tuck the strands of hair behind her ear. She resisted the urge. Instead she said: "Father Richard is here. He wants to see you. He said to join him in the chapel."

Eleanor smiled at the news and immediately insisted on going. She left Beth and started walking as fast as propriety would allow.

Beth watched her as she went. She knew there was more to Eleanor's rush then an eagerness to see the Bishop of Winchester. She was hoping he had news … news from the man she had been waiting for all these 10 years. Beth was not proud of herself but the pangs of jealousy made her very fervently pray that the man had forgotten all about Eleanor.

Richard was waiting in the chapel, knelt in front of the altar, giving thanks to God for another fruitful day. As he saw Eleanor approaching, he stood up and came towards her.

She dutifully bowed and kissed his hand. He picked her up quickly and kissed her on both cheeks. "My child, it's so good to see you!"

"And I you, Father!" she said and then her face changed and she frowned. "You look tired …" Eleanor immediately took him by the hand and sat beside him on the bench.

Richard smiled at the worried look on her face and the concern evident in her voice. No one else seemed to bother about the state of his health. _It's probably what it feels like when you have a child_, he thought. "I am tired, child. If I had known what troubles the title of Bishop would bring me and how long it would keep me away from my Abbey, I wouldn't have gone through with it. Tomorrow I must part for London again and I will not come back for many months."

"Oh …" Eleanor's face dropped. Father Richard had become the anchor in her life, her advisor, the voice of reason. Being away from him for so long would be very hard.

"But I had to speak with you. Last time we were together I told you that you needed to decide what you intended to do with the rest of your life. Do you remember?"

Eleanor nodded. "Indeed. I have thought of little else. It was not a decision I took lightly and it troubled me for many nights. I don't mind confessing that to you. But now, I am finally at peace. God has shown me the way and I intend to follow it serenely. I will take the veil, Father, and give my lands over to the church."

Richard was shocked. It was the last thing he had expected her to say. He had laid the matter before her a month ago, just as the Sheriff began his advances upon the Maudville lands, knowing that in order to keep the wolf at bay Eleanor would have to take charge of her life. He had expected her to marry. He had even expected her to ask him to locate that elusive man she had been waiting for all these years. But this … This he had not expected. Eleanor had always disliked living in the convent. She behaved properly and accepted it as the only alternative to marriage, as her uncle had wanted, but she felt constricted, depressed.

"Eleanor, are you sure? You might still be married … have children. Do you not want that?"

Eleanor's face remained stern, her eyes were cast down and she spoke slowly, dispassionately. "I am 27 years old, father. I will never have children. It is quite impossible."

"Not so!" Richard protested. "As long as you have faith in God, nothing is impossible. Remember the story of Abraham and Sarah, from the book of Genesis … To the righteous, God will provide. "

"I do have faith in God," she reassured him. "When I first came here I knelt before this very altar and I asked him to help me … Help me find this place bearable and, in time, he has. And now, with the children being here I think he is showing me the path I must follow. I know that by helping those children I will do some good and find happiness here."

"And what of your friend? If he comes …"

Eleanor raised her head, her eyes bright with determination now and unshed tears. "Please, father. Please … I am not a fool. Or at least, not as great a fool as that. I know he will not come. My uncle and you have been so kind to me, always keeping up the pretence and never shaking me to face reality but I know he has forgotten about me. I've known it almost from the moment I arrived here."

"Then why did you stay?" Richard was baffled. He had always thought Eleanor locked herself in here and stoically refused every man that had proposed to her because she still held to the belief that her childhood friend was going to come for her as promised.

"At first I stayed out of arrogance and stubbornness," she said smiling. "Then out of fear. After all, I had spent most of my life in a convent. I know very little of the world."

"But you cannot be joined with God because you are afraid of the world!"

Eleanor shook her head violently and took Richard's hand. "It's not that, Father. Really, it's not. The fear has passed. I want to dedicate my life to God, not hide behind my vows. Truly …"

Richard was not convinced. "I don't know what to say, Eleanor. You've taken me by surprise. If it is truly your wish, then I will accept it."

Eleanor was relieved and smiled, grasping Richard's hand harder. "Thank you, Father!"

"But I will ask this of you: do nothing until I come back from London. I want you to take this time and think about what you mean to do."

"But I have thought about it!"

"Then these months won't make a difference and you will put my mind at rest on this subject."

Eleanor nodded in agreement at the Bishop's request but inwardly she was offended by it and by his doubts at her conviction. But more then that, she feared that thinking about it for longer would make her certainty falter and she would begin to be troubled by questions and regrets once more. And then were would she be? A woman of 27 who had spent her life hidden behind these walls. Not fully a woman nor a nun … left somewhere in the middle, in limbo with no real prospect or future.


End file.
